These three words
are thick
and sweet
and foreign.

I roll them in my mouth,
trying to separate this strange syrup from myself.

They trap my tongue
seize control of my lips
I whisper them,
hoping to release their pressure,
but they never give.

I swallow them before they stain my face with a smile.

My body heaves,
I let this sweetness eat my insides,
too much to keep in
too terrible to let out.

I’m not ready to say it
I’m not ready to mean it…
and yet?